


And I Could Easily Lose My Mind (The Way You Kiss Me Will Work Each Time)

by JackEPeace



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, Post S3, Season 3 Spoilers, lots of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-29 04:54:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19822975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackEPeace/pseuds/JackEPeace
Summary: “I think it’s only like thirty more miles,” Mike says quickly, his voice rising with excitement. “That’s like nothing, right?”Nancy smiles, at his excitement, sure, but mostly because of her own.(or Nancy and Jonathan reunite at Thanksgiving)





	And I Could Easily Lose My Mind (The Way You Kiss Me Will Work Each Time)

**Author's Note:**

> I got a prompt on tumblr about Jonathan and Nancy visiting each other at Thanksgiving and I'm just so glad that everyone on tumblr is indulging my need to write about these two because I love them so much. I want to just keep doing it. 
> 
> Title from the song "Georgia" by Vance Joy because titles are so hard and I found like a dozen other lines that made me want to write a dozen *other* stories but I guess that's a...story for another day.

“Can’t you go any faster?” 

“Can’t you just shut up?” 

Mike glares at her and Nancy stares right back, narrowing her eyes, keeping her gaze fixed unrelenting on her brother sitting in the passenger seat. Mike eventually breaks, looking away first, slumping in his seat and crossing his arms over his chest. 

Nancy is sure she doesn’t do a good job of hiding the smug smile on her face as she turns her attention back to the road stretching endlessly in front of them. No matter how old she and Mike get, it seems that she always has the power of the older sibling on her side. 

“I just can’t believe we aren’t there yet,” Mike whines after a few minutes of silence have passed. “It feels like we’ve been driving forever.” 

“ _ I’ve _ been driving forever,” Nancy corrects. “You’ve been sitting there complaining. And what do you want me to do? Drive a hundred miles an hour until we get pulled over?” 

What Mike doesn’t need to know is that Nancy wants nothing more than to do exactly that. Every mile, every minute, has felt like twenty and she feels like no matter how much distance they put behind them, they’re not any closer to the Byers’ new home. To Jonathan.

And El and Will and Joyce, of course. 

But Nancy figures everyone would see through the lie if she tried to make it seem like there wasn’t one person in particular who makes her want to press her foot down on the gas and leave the miles, and even the police, in her wake. 

Mike only glowers. “I thought you didn’t care about breaking the rules.” 

“When I’m working on an interesting and important story,” Nancy corrects. “You wanting to make out with your girlfriend is not a story. It’s not even interesting.” 

Mike sighs and Nancy is impressed by the eye roll that he gives her. Clearly he’s been taking lessons from her all these years. “I just think you could go faster.” 

“I could leave you here. Just on the side of the road.” Nancy smiles sweetly, looking at Mike out of the corner of her eye. 

Mike lifts his chin. “You wouldn’t. Mom would be so pissed at you.” 

Now the smile Nancy gives him is all teeth. “How’s she going to know?” 

Mike just lets his forehead thunk against the window, deciding to admit defeat for the time being. Nancy is pretty sure that Mike seeing her running around Hawkins blasting demogorgons and Russians alike lends her sisterly threats a weight that they didn’t have when they were younger and fighting over the TV remote or who was going to get the last piece of Holly’s birthday cake. 

They drive for a while in silence, giving Nancy nothing to do but watch as the miles tick by on the odometer. Her father had spent an afternoon working on the car with an interest and a fervor that Nancy had previously never seen. He’d changed the oil and spent a while peering under the hood before eventually going to the neighbor’s and consulting the input of the much younger man that lived there, who seemed all too happy to come over and do some sort of male bonding while checking the brakes and tires and tread. And then, this morning before they’d left, her father had given her the rundown over everything as though Nancy had never been behind the wheel of a car before and she’d forced herself not to roll her eyes and be as childishly impatient as Mike is being right now. 

She understands how Mike is feeling, that impatience that feels like it’s practically going to split her in two. Talking to Jonathan on the phone and getting letters and photographs from him weekly doesn’t compare to seeing him in person. To holding him in her arms and feeling his breathing against her skin as he speaks, rather than the cool and impersonal press of the phone against her ear. 

Nancy lets the speedometer inch a little higher, purely by accident. 

As an olive branch, Nancy says, “Check the map, will ya? See how much further we have to go. And what the next turn is.” 

Mike retrieves the map from where he’d folded it at his feet, spreading it out across the dashboard. He and Lucas and Dustin had plotted the trip a few days ago, though Nancy had suspected that Mike already had the route memorized in his mind, tracing the distance that looked so short on the map. 

“I think it’s only like thirty more miles,” Mike says quickly, his voice rising with excitement. “That’s like nothing, right?” 

Nancy smiles, at his excitement, sure, but mostly because of her own. 

Mike runs his finger along their route, darkened with Sharpie by two jealous boys who were missing their friends just as much as Mike, reading off the names of the roads that they’ll be taking next. 

For a while, the miles pass only with the sound of the murmuring radio and Mike listing off the roads that she needs to take and Nancy tries not to let her fingers tap impatiently on the steering wheel, tries not to give into Mike’s requests to just drive faster. 

“You know,” Nancy says, just to give herself something else to think about, “Jonathan was telling me how excited Will is to you see you.” 

Mike doesn’t look up from the map open on his lap, as though if he stares at their ending point hard enough then they’ll just magically transport there. “Yeah, I know. I’m excited to see him too.” His tone is absent, an after-thought, which doesn’t surprise Nancy in the slightest. 

“Like,  _ really _ excited. You’re his best friend.” 

Mike finally looks up at her. “Yeah, he’s mine too.” He looks like he’s confused as to the point that she’s possibly trying to make.

“I’m only saying...I know that you’re excited to see El. But, you know...maybe don’t get too excited about her that you forget about Will too,” Nancy says gently, smiling softly at Mike. 

It looks like Mike is about to refute her words, to assure her with a self-assured brashness that he could  _ never _ forget about Will god Nancy mind your own business. But Mike hesitates and she can see that he’s actually contemplating her words and Nancy thinks this might be the first time in the entirety of their sibling relationship that he’s ever actually considered taking her advice. 

Mike just nods, looking back down at the map. “Yeah. Whatever.” But his tone, at least, doesn’t match the dismissiveness of his words. 

When they take the turn into the Byers’ neighborhood, Mike sits up with an eagerness that Nancy wishes that she could match. She wishes she wasn’t the one behind the wheel so that she could press her face to the window, counting each house down until they finally got the one that they were looking for. Her heart is thrumming in her chest, her mouth dry, and she tightens her hands around the wheel, feeling something else cut through her excitement and cleave it in half. 

She’s nervous, suddenly. 

Of course, Nancy knows this is ridiculous. It’s Jonathan.  _ Her _ Jonathan. What could she possibly have to be nervous about?

But still, that’s how she feels as she puts the car into park, staring at the house that she’s seen only into the photographs that Jonathan has sent her. She’s only feet away from Jonathan now and all she feels is anxious. Worried. Five months is a long time...a lifetime, really. What if...what if…

Nancy can’t finish those thoughts. Those little  _ what ifs _ that bounce around in her head, telling her despite her best judgement that Jonathan might not like her anymore, that in the time they’ve been apart he’s realized that his life might be better without Nancy Wheeler in it. That they might have learned how to exist together only over the phone and in letters written during calculus class. That he might look at her and see a stranger or that she might do the same thing. 

Mike is throwing off his seatbelt, bursting out of the car at the same time the front door of the house is yanked open and El and Will come tumbling out into the yard like overexcited puppies. They all crash together at once, a giant pile of teenagers acting like they’re six years old again, talking at once and over each other, hugging in a tangle of limbs, and watching them makes Nancy’s eyes prick with tears. It’s a relief to know, after everything that they’ve seen and done and been through, that they’re still capable of the type of uninhibited joy that makes them act like the children they’re supposed to be.

It also makes all the nerves and anxiety in her own chest slide away, makes her more eager than ever to have Jonathan in her arms, to have him sweep her up in the same way and crush her to his chest and cover her face with kisses.

By the time Nancy steps out of the car, Jonathan hasn’t appeared yet but Joyce has, grinning widely and waving with an enthusiasm that almost matches the kids. Nancy forces herself to smile and wave in response, trying not to make it look obvious that she’s looking past Joyce and into the house, looking for someone who is presumably just past her, just out of sight. 

Mike and Will and El are still talking breathlessly and Will is grabbing Mike’s hand, telling him that he needs to come see Fort Byers-Hopper and El is reaching for Mike’s other hand, telling him about how they built the treehouse and they’re all hurrying around the side of the house, disappearing out of sight. 

“Nancy! It’s so good to see you!” Joyce throws her arms around her and Nancy forces herself to hug back, even though this isn’t the first pair of arms that she’d imagined having around her when they arrived. “Look at you. Wow.” Joyce smiles, holding Nancy’s face in her hands. “You look so beautiful and grown up.” 

Nancy gives her a smile that she’s certain Joyce can see right through. “Thank you, Ms...Joyce,” she corrects quickly, as soon as Joyce starts to narrow her eyes. “Where’s…” 

Joyce frowns and Nancy feels her heart drop to her feet. “We weren’t expecting you guys for another half hour. I sent him to the store to get a few more things for tomorrow. But I’m sure he’ll be back soon!” 

“Oh.” It doesn’t matter, not really. At least, this is what she tries to tell herself. Whether Jonathan is here now or in half an hour, it doesn’t matter.

He’ll  _ be _ here. 

Nancy tries to push down the resurgence of her nerves, reminding herself of this.

Joyce grabs her hand, tugging her toward the house, asking her about the drive. Nancy answers her questions, trying not to sound distracted or disinterested, trying not to make it obvious that now she’s looking behind her instead of ahead, still waiting and trying not to feel left behind.

The new Byers’ home is a world away from the one they’d left in Hawkins. It’s bright with large windows and drapes pulled open to let in the late afternoon sun. It smells like a mixture of delicious foods that makes Nancy’s stomach rumble and it has a soft warmth to it that makes it feel like a unified home instead of a place where three people live their three separate lives. Now there are signs of habitation everywhere: Jonathan’s camera on the coffee table beside a stack of  _ Wonder Woman  _ comics and two kids’ backpacks tossed down to the floor beside the door. Shoes in rows and a pile of laundry -folded but not yet put away. A new family photo hanging in the living room, one of Joyce and her sons and El there in the middle, all of them smiling like they’ve never known a life any different than the one that was captured when the flash went off. 

Nancy peeks down the hallway toward where she assumes the bedrooms to be, wondering which door will lead to Jonathan’s and if it will look different too, if he’s become someone else different here in this new house in this new state. 

“It’s been so long since I’ve cooked a real Thanksgiving dinner,” Joyce is saying as Nancy follows her into the kitchen, where the fridge has Will’s drawings pinned to it along with report cards and crumpled flyers reminding about events that have already passed. “I’m feeling a little out of practice.” 

“It already smells great,” Nancy assures her, glancing around at the mess that has taken over the kitchen counters. “It’s too bad we have to wait until tomorrow to eat it.” 

Joyce looks pleased with the compliment, flushes of color dotting her cheeks. “Well, there’s still plenty to do,” she says. “But I had today off so I thought...why not.” 

“Do you need a hand with anything?” Nancy thinks if she isn’t given something to do, then she’ll either start poking her nose into Jonathan’s bedroom to look for clues as to the person he is now, or else have to go join the rest of the kids in Fort Byers-Hopper. 

And she’s sure Mike would love that.

Thankfully, Joyce directs her toward peeling the miniature pyramid of potatoes sitting out on the counter and Nancy washes her hands, grateful for the task. Joyce is asking her about school and about college and how she feels about graduating in a few months time and Nancy answers and takes the chance to study Joyce, to see all the little ways that she, too, has changed.

There’s still the sadness in her eyes, layers of disappointment and loss that have been compounded over the years and weighed heavy by the final straw of losing Hopper. But the wrinkles and lines on her face look smooth and warm now, not like sharp, jagged edges and when she smiles it looks easy and sincere and Nancy can’t help but notice how Joyce carries herself, her shoulders back and up, head high. The move, if nothing else, seems to have been good for her. 

Nancy has added four perfectly peeled potatoes to the bowl on the counter when the front door opens and she hears Jonathan before she has a chance to see him. “Mom? Nancy’s here already? Where-” 

When Jonathan steps into the kitchen, he looks slightly panicked, his eyes darting around like he expects to find Nancy hidden away in some corner somewhere, just out of sight. When he sees her, standing there by the counter, he looks at her like it’s been five years instead of five months. 

Like he’s never seen anyone or anything more beautiful.

And Nancy can’t believe that she was ever nervous about seeing him again.

Jonathan drops the grocery bag in his hands onto the table as he hurries into the kitchen and Nancy barely has time to drop the potato she’d been in the process of peeling before Jonathan has his arms around her, lifting her into a hug that might have been uncomfortable in any other circumstance but right now it’s exactly what Nancy wants. What she needs. His arms tight around her, her face pressing into the rough fabric of his jacket, her eyes closed as she breathes in the smell of him, new and familiar at the same time. 

Jonathan kisses the side of her head before loosening his grip enough to let Nancy’s feet touch the floor again and she tries to remember that they’re standing in the kitchen with Jonathan’s mother and that the greeting that she wishes they could share might have to wait until later. Her lips already tingle at the thought of kissing him and now she feels like her heart is racing in her chest for an entirely different reason.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t...I thought I would be back before you got here and-” 

“It’s okay,” Nancy assures him. “I guess we made really good time.” She gestures toward the mess that she’s been contributing to the already cluttered kitchen. “I’ve just been helping-” 

“I can take it from here,” Joyce interjects, waving them away. “I know you two want to catch up.” 

Nancy looks back at Jonathan and it almost catches her by surprise, the simple act of being able to lift her eyes and see him standing there in front of her. “You could show me your new room?” She suggests in a way that she hopes doesn’t sound like a proposition or some sort of code, though she’s pretty sure that Joyce has them all already figured out anyway. 

Jonathan takes her hand and leads the way out of the kitchen and through the living room and Joyce calls, almost like a mother reciting lines on a sitcom, “Hey! Don’t forget to leave the door open!” 

Nancy smirks as the tips of Jonathan’s ears turn red and he mumbles something that Joyce couldn’t possibly have heard. But Nancy knows that the door will get left open anyway because one of the things that Nancy loves about Jonathan is how much he loves his mother. She wonders if some things are different between them now, if smiling Joyce in the new house in a new state is the caretaker now, not just for Will and El but for Jonathan too, or if he’ll always be stuck feeling like he has to take care of her instead. 

“My room is small,” Jonathan says as he pushes open the door at the end of the hall. “I figured it made for sense for Will and El to get the bigger rooms since I’m not going to be here for long.” 

This is something they’ve talked about passing, briefly referenced in the letters that Jonathan has written and rarely spoken about out loud. This vague future that is steadily looming closer and closer, week by week, where Jonathan will return back to Hawkins or that he’ll follow Nancy wherever she goes next, whether it be for a job or schooling. 

Nancy decides not to fixate on his comment, decides to let the possibility of a reunion that lasts more than a long weekend settle in the back of her mind for the moments when they aren’t together and she needs the reminder. Instead, she decides to focus on the present, the now, the Jonathan that she has in front of her rather than the one that promises to follow her anywhere. 

“Ta da,” Jonathan says, flicking on the light and looking every bit as uncomfortable and uncertain as he did the first time Nancy was in his room as his girlfriend and not just a friend or acquaintance. 

Nancy thinks there will be plenty of time to look at the room later. To catalogue the things that are Jonathan now and Jonathan then. Right now, she has more important uses for her time. 

Nancy pulls Jonathan to her, kissing him in the way she’s let herself imagine doing over the past few days, when coming to visit was an imminent occurrence and not just a circled date on the calendar. Jonathan’s arms around her feel exactly the same, his weight solid and warm beneath her palms. His lips on hers still make her see stars and her breath mingles with his as they stand in the open doorway of his bedroom and kiss each other dizzy. 

It feels like forever and not long enough when they finally pull away and Nancy knows that she needs a break, that she needs to breathe, needs to slow her racing heart but none of those things feel like good enough reasons to not be kissing Jonathan right now. 

Though, Nancy thinks, if Jonathan keeps looking at her the way that he is right now, she won’t be able to talk herself out of kissing him again. No one has ever looked at her the way he is, the way he does, and she wonders if this is the thing mothers mean when they read their daughters fairy tales and talk about happy endings. If happy endings really just mean being held close by someone who never wants to let you go and who looks at you like they want to see every single little piece of you. 

Jonathan smiles and it’s Nancy that has pink tingeing her ears now. “Hey.” 

“Hi.” Nancy smiles, ducking her head so that her forehead is resting against his collarbone. 

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Jonathan admits. “It felt like time was passing too slowly but now all of the sudden...here you are.” 

“Mike kept trying to get me to break the law and speed the entire way here.” 

“Let me guess: if it had been your idea, you would have done it.” 

Nancy rolls her eyes, twisting away from Jonathan and ignoring the way he laughs at her and the way it makes her want to laugh too. Everything about how she feels right now makes her want to laugh and smile, makes her feel giddy and full-up like a bottle of champagne seconds before the cork is about to pop free. 

“It might have ruined Thanksgiving if your mom had had to come bail us out of jail,” Nancy points out.

Jonathan only shrugs. “I don’t think they would have put Mike in jail.” 

With another eye roll, Nancy points a finger at him. “I don’t even get a ‘thank you’ for being in the car all day? You’re lucky I love you, Jonathan Byers.” 

Jonathan takes her hand, threading their fingers together. “Yeah. I am.” 

When Jonathan pulls her to him, Nancy rests her head against his chest, listening to the sound of his beating heart. It sounds familiar, exactly as she remembers it. She closes her eyes, letting herself listen briefly to the sound, something that all the phone calls and letters in the world could never give her. 

“So,” Nancy says when they pull away again because she hasn’t yet decided if she wants to spend the entirety of her visit exactly like this. “Are you going to give me the grand tour?” 

Jonathan gestures to the room around them, a pseudo transplant of his room back in Hawkins but smaller and with only a few adjustments. “Here it is. Tour over.” 

Nancy shakes her head, stepping away from him so that she can give herself the tour, so that she can reexamine and re-familiarize herself with these aspects of his life. So that when he calls her and they talk far later than her father would be comfortable with, Nancy can imagine Jonathan in his room and know exactly what he surrounds himself with.

In her mind, she already knows much of what Jonathan has. The same  _ Evil Dead _ poster on the wall, same clutter of film equipment, same backpack shoved in a corner and unzipped so that his textbooks are close to falling out. But there are other things too: articles from his new school’s newspaper with his name under the photos on the front page; pictures of Will and El or just Will, growing up now, or just Joyce, smiling uncomfortably for the camera but indulging her son nonetheless. 

Nancy picks up one of the photos of her, taken back in Hawkins the day before Jonathan left. She can see the sadness in her own eyes, how she, too, was smiling indulgently but trying to hide the fact that she didn’t really want to smile at all, that she just wanted to cry and hold onto Jonathan and carry-on in a way that was decidedly un modern-independent-woman of her but that might convince him not to leave. 

“I love that picture.” 

Nancy looks over her shoulder at him. “I look sad.” 

Jonathan leans against the side of his bed, still watching her. “I’ll just have to take a new one, then.” 

Nancy puts the photo back, thinking that she might look sad in any picture that he took of her because their time together, for the foreseeable future, has an expiration date. But she doesn’t point that out, doesn’t want to make Jonathan stop smiling or stop watching her. 

“So what do you want to do while you’re here?” Jonathan asks. “Now that we’ve got this part of the tour out of the way. There are a few things around town we could do or-” 

“I just want to spend time with you,” Nancy tells him unabashedly. “Think your mom would let me sleep over?” She smiles, teasing him.

Jonathan pushes off the edge of the bed so that he’s standing in front of her again. “Maybe if we keep it a secret.” 

“I have a feeling that we were never really that secretive,” Nancy points out. “I think Joyce has been onto us this whole time.” 

Jonathan makes a face, crinkling his nose and the tips of his ears get red again. “Yeah...you  _ might _ have a point there…” 

Nancy kisses him because she can, because he’s right here in front of her, because she drove here to see his eyes light up and his nose crinkle and to kiss him and feel his hands on her waist again. 

This kiss is decidedly shorter than the others, thanks to Will and, right at his heels, El and Mike. Will takes one look at them and grimaces and Nancy forgets to be embarrassed because she’s too busy trying not to laugh at his reaction.

Jonathan sighs, looking at his brother. “What?” 

“Mom says you have to get pizza,” Will says and El nods her support and Nancy can see that Mike is holding her hand and it makes her want to smile for her brother. “She forgot to get anything for dinner tonight because she was too busy thinking about Thanksgiving tomorrow.” 

“Pepperoni,” El adds and Jonathan sighs. 

“Okay, pizza, got it.” He looks at Nancy. “I guess we can take another tour.” 

Mike looks at Nancy, crossing his arms over his chest. “And can you, like, stop making out long enough to actually get the pizza? We’re hungry.” 

Nancy thinks about threatening to leave Mike here, but she has a feeling that the words wouldn’t have the desired effect. 

* * *

After dinner, Will retrieves a board game from the closet and for a while, Nancy feels like she’s back in Hawkins again, like she’s gone back in time to the months before summer where she would go to Jonathan’s for dinner and they would play cards or some kind of game with Will until Joyce reminded them that they had school in the morning and Nancy would say her goodbyes and come back half an hour later to find Jonathan’s window already open for her, regardless of how cold it was outside. 

She can tell that Mike wants to be doing anything other than playing Risk. His posture is a dead giveaway; he’s leaned so close to El that he’s practically about to fall into her lap and Nancy is proud of Mike for not coming up with some dumb excuse just to disappear into El’s room and spend a little one-on-one time with her.

Though, Joyce sitting on the couch a few inches from Mike’s back probably has a lot to do with him playing the game. 

Nancy feels her eyes start to grow heavy, her head nodding forward despite her best efforts to invest herself in the incredibly complicated and intricate game that Will has set up and that requires more thought than she’s currently capable of. She rests her head on Jonathan’s shoulder, content in the idea that he’ll be there to support her weight and keep her from falling flat on her face in the middle of the board game. 

She doesn’t mean to fall asleep like that, isn’t even aware of doing so until suddenly she’s awake again, with Jonathan gently shaking her and Joyce suggesting they put the game on hold until tomorrow. “You can play while you watch the parade,” she tells Will, ruffling his hair with a smile on her face. 

“Sorry,” Nancy mumbles, rubbing at her eyes with the heel of her hand and trying to blink herself awake. “I didn’t mean-” 

“It’s late,” Jonathan says, kissing her forehead. “You’re tired. You drove a long way today.” 

Nancy nods but her mind pushes against the logic in Jonathan’s words and she wishes that she hadn’t fallen asleep, wishes that she still didn’t feel like she was in danger of drifting off again. Because going to sleep means the day will come to an end, which means she has only three days left before she has to say her goodbyes one more time. 

But there’s no fighting against it, especially not when it’s obvious that she’s about to fall asleep leaning against Jonathan again and so Risk gets left behind on the living room floor while Joyce ushers them all down the hall and to bed: Mike on Will’s floor and Nancy on El’s. 

This last part, of course, is said with a pointed look at Jonathan and Nancy is too tired to really weigh out the sincerity of the threat. 

Teeth-brushed and dressed in an old shirt of Jonathan’s, Nancy crawls beneath the blankets spread out on El’s floor, her mind torn between giving into her exhaustion and reminding her that Jonathan is just down the hall, a few feet away, within reach for the first time in months. 

El switches off the lamp, turning onto her side with a teddy bear cradled against her chest. “Nancy?” 

The “yes” comes out as little more than a mumble, but Nancy figures El will get her meaning anyway.

“Thank you for bringing Mike.” 

Nancy smiles, pulling the quilt closer around her shoulders. It smells like Jonathan, like this new Jonathan, unfamiliar degregent and the smell of someone else’s house. “You’re welcome.” 

If El says anything more, Nancy isn’t awake to hear it. 

* * *

Nancy wakes suddenly, as though someone has flicked the switch in her mind from  _ off _ to  _ on _ . The house is still and silent around her and it takes her a moment to place the unfamiliar shadows, to remember why she’s on the floor of someone else’s room. She’s not in Hawkins, not in the room that she’s known for nearly the entire eighteen years of her life. 

She’s in El’s room. On El’s floor. In the Byers’ new home.

And suddenly, Nancy can’t stand it anymore. She can’t stand the idea that Jonathan is here, that he’s just down the hall and she could touch him and kiss him if only she got up off this floor and went to him.

So that’s exactly what she does.

Quietly, Nancy untangles herself from the blankets, casting a glance toward El, who is sleeping curled on her side, unaware that Nancy is about to break Joyce’s rules. Jonathan’s bedroom door is open, almost as though he hoped that eventually Nancy would make her way down there and she regrets that it’s taken her this long to do exactly that. She’ll leave the door open so as not to  _ completely _ ignore Joyce’s rules. 

Jonathan is asleep on his back, his hair mussed from trying to get comfortable -something Nancy is all too familiar with. One his arms is thrown across his face and Nancy reaches out gently, slowly, brushing her fingers along his wrist, along his palm and his fingers, taking the rare chance to study him while he sleeps, to let her touch wander and trace and memorize him. 

Jonathan jerks awake suddenly with a gasp, sitting upright so fast that Nancy snatches her hand back, taking a step backward. “I’m sorry. It’s me.” 

Jonathan blinks against the darkness of his room and he still looks half asleep as his eyes search for her. “Nancy.” And then, he seems to come fully awake, his eyes widening. “Nancy.” 

The word is breathless, as though he’d forgotten that she was there at all. 

Nancy steps toward him just as Jonathan reaches for her and his hand settles on her hip, the other reaching for her wrist to pull her down into bed beside him. Nancy exhales, closing her eyes as she tucks her body against his and when Jonathan kisses her, it’s slow and sleepy and Nancy feels her body relax into his. 

He reaches a hand beneath the shirt that used to be his, letting his palm rest against the flat of her stomach, his touch warm and still managing to leave goosebumps behind. That’s how Nancy falls asleep, with her head pillowed on Jonathan’s shoulder and his hand pressed to stomach. 

* * *

Nancy wakes to the sound of tinny voices coming from the television speaker and the smell of something frying in the kitchen and she blinks, scrunching up her forehead as she tries to place it all. And then, from down the hall, Joyce says, “Do you want pancakes, Mike?” and Nancy remembers everything and feels a little like the Grinch in the old cartoon Holly still makes them watch each Christmas, like her heart is growing three sizes this day.

The bed beside her is empty, which is not how Nancy would have chosen to wake up if anyone had asked her. She rolls over, as though if she looks hard enough at the tangled sheets and the dent in the pillow then Jonathan will somehow materialize. 

She’s just gotten out of bed, stretching and wincing at her reflection in the mirror -tangled hair and creases on her cheeks from the wrinkled fabric she slept on- when Jonathan walks into the room with damp hair, smelling like the steam and soap from the shower. He smiles at her, his face open and unguarded, and it makes Nancy blush. “You’re awake.” 

“You could have woken me,” Nancy points out. “I wouldn’t have minded.” 

She wouldn’t have minded a few more stolen minutes with him, just the two of them in bed beneath the familiar covers that could let her pretend they were back home, together, and that she wasn’t keeping track of every second in her mind.

Jonathan shrugs and Nancy wants to reach up and slip her fingers through his wet hair, wants to kiss the spots on his neck where the water droplets are collecting. “You still looked tired. I didn’t want to wake you.” 

Nancy has to admit that a part of her is grateful for whatever additional time she got, curled up beneath the covers, lost to sleep. “I haven’t really slept that well in a long time,” she admits. 

“I know what you mean.” And then, looking embarrassed, Jonathan adds, “It’s a lot easier to sleep when you’re there.” 

Nancy kisses him because she knows exactly what he means and exactly how he feels. She thinks that no one understands her like Jonathan, that no one understands the nightmares that still won’t go away, that are just compounded on one another year after year, that feature missing brothers and dead best friends and worlds beneath their feet waiting to swallow them whole. That feature monsters with gleaming teeth and breath that smells like a dozen rotting corpses and the way it feels to kill a man who is trying to kill you first. Nancy knows that she’ll never be able to put into words the things that Jonathan just  _ knows _ and how she gets most of her homework done in the late night hours when she can’t sleep because she’s too busy relieving the moments she’ll never forget and Jonathan isn’t there anymore to put his arm around her and kiss her until she forgets, just for a little while.

But the way Jonathan kisses her, standing here in his new bedroom, in a new house that has done its best to make it seem like a fresh start is really possible, lets Nancy know that he understands what she feels whether she says it out loud or not and that he knows, just like he always does. He just kisses her and not for the first time, Nancy wishes it was just the two of them, alone together. 

Eventually, Joyce calls, “Will, Jonathan, Nancy! Breakfast! And the parade is starting soon!” 

Jonathan gives her an apologetic smile. “Happy Thanksgiving, I guess.” He kisses her forehead. 

Nancy hurries back to El’s room to grab her toothbrush and an outfit that looks more presentable than Jonathan’s old Hawkins High shirt and she changes, taking the time to make herself look slightly more presentable. Jonathan might have already seen her in all her worst moments but that doesn’t mean that she can’t fluff herself up for him when she feels like it. 

Only Will and Jonathan are sitting at the table by the time Nancy emerges from the bathroom. “Where’s Mike?” 

“Oh, I think he and El are in the tree house. Sorry, fort.” Joyce smiles at Will as she makes the correction. “They took their breakfast up there.” 

Will looks slightly sulky but doesn’t complain and Nancy wonders if she’s not the only one who gave a pep talk before arriving for the weekend. She tries to imagine Jonathan awkwardly trying to explain to Will how Mike and El might want a little bit of time alone and it makes her smile as she sits down at the table across from Will. “Maybe later we can keep playing the game from last night. It was fun.” 

Will perks up slightly, spearing a piece of his pancake. “You were winning.” 

Nancy figures that asking  _ I was?  _ with the incredulity that she feels wouldn’t do much to impress Will so she only shrugs. “Of course I was.” 

Jonathan snorts out a laugh, shaking his head. But he’s smiling at her, a grateful expression in his eyes. Which is how Nancy assumes the three of them end up back in the living room, watching the Macy’s parade and trying to muddle their way through the game from last night with two less players. 

Nancy isn’t sure, exactly, how she wins in the end but she’s not about to argue with Will. 

* * *

During dinner, Joyce insists that they go around the table and share the things they’re thankful for, just like Nancy remembers doing as a little girl, a practice that fell by the wayside after Holly was born because there was too much noise and chaos and too many things to remember. It makes her feel a little bit like a kid now, sitting at the Byers’ table and trying to think about something that she’s grateful for that doesn’t sound ridiculously cheesy and after-school special. Joyce is a little teary as she says that she’s grateful for this, for all her kids and the people she loves to be together in one place and she squeezes El and Will’s hands so hard that her knuckles go white but neither of the kids complain. 

In the end, Nancy just seconds everyone else’s sentiments, that she’s grateful they could all be together for a few days and that they have each other. It’s easier to say then so many of the things that she really feels grateful for. 

She’s grateful for her parents, who are sitting at home right now with two of their children missing, celebrating what is supposed to be a family holiday without their entire family because they’d known how important it was for their son and daughter to be somewhere else.

Just like she’s grateful that she has a mother, who makes a point to take pride in everything she does, regardless of whether Nancy feels like she actually deserves it.

A father, who knew she was leaving to spend days with her boyfriend but who just smoothed a hand down her hair and kissed the top of her head while telling her to drive safe.

A brother, who still laughs and who makes her laugh and want to strangle him at the same time because almost dying together multiple times hasn’t made them want to kill each other any less.

A little sister, who doesn’t realize that monsters are real and who still thinks they can be banished with a few words and reassures. 

And a boyfriend, who loves her, who makes her feel brave, who makes her feel like the kind of person worth following into the unknown. 

Nancy isn’t sure she would be able to put any of those things into words anyway, sitting here at the table. 

Jonathan squeezes her hand and Nancy thinks, again, how nice it is to be understood without having to say a word.

* * *

After everything is eaten or packed away and the dishes are washed and the pie is half gone, Jonathan tells her to put on her coat and they leave Mike asleep on the couch and Will and El watching TV with glassy eyes and slip outside. Nancy exhales, watching her breath crystallize in front of her, the first sign of the approaching winter. In Hawkins, there’s already frost collecting at the bottoms of the windows in the mornings and she wonders how much longer it’ll be before the gray skies deliver on the threat of snow and if it’ll snow here too and if Jonathan will watch the fake flats twisting down from the sky and think about her and how the flakes had collected on their eyelashes when they’d walked home from school with gloved hands shoved in jacket pockets and cheeks flushed from the memory of kisses rather than from the cold. 

Jonathan takes her hand now, threading their fingers together and they start walking in that aimless sort of way and Nancy doesn’t mind that they have no where to go because she’s with Jonathan and that matters more than the rest of it. 

“Do you like it here?” Nancy asks finally, when the Byers’ house is behind them and there are unfamiliar houses on both sides, with lights glowing in the windows and families enjoying the rest of their holiday together. “I guess I never asked you that.” 

Jonathan shrugs. “It’s okay. I know my mom is happy...so that’s good. It’s not Hawkins, though.” 

Nancy lifts her eyebrows. “What? No portals to other worlds or giant flesh monsters trying to eat you?” 

“Not so far. But, you know...there’s no you either.” 

Nancy holds his hand tighter against hers. “I’m here now,” she points out, like that somehow makes it okay. Like it’s enough for the both of them. 

“Now all you have to do is stay and then it’ll be the perfect place. You’d fit right in at my new school...you could write for the paper and I’ll take the pictures to go with your stories. It’ll be great. Everyone will love you.” 

Nancy gives him a pointed look. “Everyone?” 

“Well, I will,” Jonathan says, tugging them to stop and putting his hands on her shoulders. “I do.” 

Nancy leans into him as they kiss, there on the sidewalk in front of someone else’s house. She sighs, watching her breath leave her lips in a cloud. “I don’t want to go.” 

Jonathan shakes his head, wrapping his arms around her. “Don’t think about it. We still have time. You aren’t leaving for two more days.” 

Nancy nods, wrapping her fingers around the fabric of his jacket in an effort to hold him closer. “I know.” She tries to make it sound like that’s enough. 

“And I mean it,” Jonathan continues, “in June, after graduation, you pick a spot on the map and I’m there.” 

Nancy smiles up at him. “What if I want to go to Paris?” 

“Then I’ll practice my French.” 

She rolls her eyes at him. “Why are you so good at always saying the right thing? I feel like I can never do that...that it’s always wrong.” 

Jonathan shakes his head, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “You never say the wrong thing,” he assures her. “Everything you say is perfect, Nancy Wheeler.” 

When she kisses Jonathan, she feels the warmth tingle all the way down to her toes, making her coat feel almost unnecessary. 

“You’re coming for Christmas though, right? We don’t have to wait until June.” Nancy hates how small her voice sounds, how she hopes that she sounds like a woman in love and not a girl who doesn’t know how to be alone anymore. “Because if not, then I guess I’m going to have to take the car again and drive-” 

“I’ll be there,” Jonathan assures her. “Probably with my whole family but, I’ll definitely be there.” 

Nancy nods. “Good. I’ll talk my dad about that whole staying in our basement plan again.” 

“Your dad isn’t one of those shotgun-bury-you-in-the-yard dads like on TV, right?” Jonathan teases and just gets an eyeroll in response. His expression goes slightly more serious as his reaches for her hand, running his thumb along the thinning scar there. “You know I’m here, right? Not matter what. If you need me, I can-” 

“I know,” Nancy assures him, putting her hands gently against the side of his face. “I know you are.” 

Jonathan almost looks relieved, kissing her forehead. “Okay. Because-” 

“I know,” Nancy interrupts with a smile. “I know.” 

Because she does. 

With Jonathan, she always does. 


End file.
